


Cause My Soul Has Lost Its Way.

by Aproclivity



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Alex is not a damsel, But that's where it diverges, Canon Compliant through 2X12, F/M, Kidnapping, My First Work in This Fandom, Strand is probably a psychic, and my first fic in a decade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8553460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aproclivity/pseuds/Aproclivity
Summary: After getting the call from Simon Reese, Alex Reagan is kidnapped from the PNWS offices.





	1. Seventeen minutes

“Nothing is going to happen,” Dr. Strand spoke the words again, but the softer tones that he’d placed in them before for Alex’s benefit were sliding out of them. He’d never been quite good at doing this comforting thing for too long, not with Coralee and not with Alex. Only Charlie had managed to rarely test his patience in that regard, even if it was only when she was a child. 

Richard Strand had never looked at Alex Reagan like a child. 

But he couldn’t deny that there was something that looked quite… fragile in her right now, watching as the color drained from her face even further. The difference between the shade she was now and the amount of cosmetic still below her eyes made him wonder, not for the first time, just how much like bruises those circles below them would look. He doubted that her sleep patterns would be receiving any beneficial change with these ideas on her plate. 

Sighing, Strand had been about to attempt a different form of distraction that had worked upon her in the past when she stood up abruptly. 

“I need a minute.” There was no wavering in her voice, even if it sounded strained, and both he and Nic looked to one another. They spoke her name in unison before Alex shook her head and just repeated more firmly this time, “I just need a minute,” before she stepped out into the hallway beyond Nic’s office. 

“So…” Alex’s producing partner drew out the sound in the way the same journalist way that Alex did, but unfortunately for the other man, he lacked her charm with it. 

“Nothing is going to _happen_ ,” the words came a third time in as many minutes, and all of the impatience with this idea that somehow a small radio studio in the middle of Seattle was somehow going to be the axis mundi, the pinnacle place that ends up causing the end of the world was fused into them. Before Nic could respond, Strand flipped the leather case on his tablet open with unnecessary briskness and steeled his gaze against the Strand Institute emails within. 

Long before, Richard had determined that there was few things as good for stress reduction as completely eviscerating whatever charlatan was attempting to “prove” that their hauntings happened to be somehow “real.” Well, if there was going to be one good thing about Alex’s latest episode being released, it would be that there was going to be substantially less fodder for this coming into his mailbox. Of course he would end up missing this little diversion. 

It had been a diversion that had taken far too long, and when he looked up, Strand noticed that Nic had also been doing something other than simply just waiting. Glancing to the clock, the frown set on his lips deepened. “Alex has been gone for seventeen minutes,” apparently he’d been more angry than he realized to go into such detail with the email. “Has she come back at all?” 

The noting of the time made Nic’s normally happy go lucky face look more concerned, and Strand wondered what was it about those who worked at Pacific Northwest Stories that made them so disinclined (or perhaps the word was unable) to keep a good sleep schedule. (Like he had any space to talk, but he slept fine before he got involved in this whole mess. At least that’s what he would say.) Unlike Alex, Nic’s face was free of the color that would have hid his dark circles. It probably was not a good thing how much they stood out at the moment. 

“Maybe she just needed longer to you know, put a better face on it,” the convincing tone didn’t seem to work on Nic himself, never mind Strand, and the doctor was already on his feet and out the door with a look on his face that made interns scurry from him in a way that they didn’t normally do. 

Later, they would say that it wasn’t the anger in Strand’s face that concerned them (they all had gotten used to that in the year that he’d worked with Alex, especially when he’d come back from his three month sabbatical) but it was the fear there. 

Normally, even when he was on the best of terms with Alex, he respected her privacy enough to always knock on her office door. The knocking was especially important in times when things between them became strained. That extra moment before they saw one another always seemed to be enough to put them into a better state to deal with one another, even if it was simply to allow the other a frustrated breath before they entered the same space. 

Today there was no knocking, and there was no space given or asked for. Strand simply threw the door opened and peered into the overcrowded office. Somehow without his having knowledge of it, Nic came to stand next to him, and Strand’s hand slammed into the doorjamb in order to block the other man’s entry. “ _No, Nicholas._ ” Normally Nic would have corrected the improper use of his name, especially with a comment about listening his podcast, but Strand’s voice stopped him. 

Or rather, his voice and the look on Strand’s face stopped him from entering when he finally glanced at it. In happier, more intoxicated times (well, one time really) Alex had spent a good twenty minutes with him and Amalia waving around a beer bottle and waxing poetic about the blue and the intensity in Strand’s eyes. In a good way, of course. But right now that intensity seemed a scalpel he used over the room, dissecting each bit of into a perfect series of slides. 

Richard Strand didn’t say anything for a long moment, but his hand closed tighter and tighter around itself against the door jam, and color leached more and more from his knuckles. There were things out of place, big ones, but the largest one brought a sound to his lips that seemed more like a wounded animal than anything else. 

Alex Reagan’s battered IPhone could be seen in many ways, and goodness knows that Richard had seen nearly all of them. The phone had been both friend and foe in times of recordings or when there needed to be distance between them. It had been the bane of his existence when she pulled it out at exactly the wrong moment of emotional vulnerability, and occasionally it made her laugh when she strolled through it looking for the right song, or she got a text that she was looking forward too. 

Always, always, always it had been an appendage grafted to being within its mistress’ hand or at the very least her reach. 

He’d never seen the phone as it was now, dead and just resting in the middle of her desk, as if someone had swept away the normal clutter and presented it there. 

Being tall was a boon in situations like this, and Richard crossed the room in perhaps three steps to find the purple post it note that rested on top of her phone in a haphazard fashion. The writing on the note was Alex’s, he would know it anywhere with it’s cramped loops as if she was worried that somehow she would forget the words she wanted to say before they could be passed from her brain to the pen nib. 

The note was nine words, but something about them made Strand’s breath hiss in:

_Guess we know how to end the season, huh?_

Feeling a curious detachment settle over him, Richard ignored the way that his intellect was screaming at him about things like evidence and being questioned in a third… disappearance in his lifetime (and it couldn’t be anything but a disappearance), but he couldn’t bring himself to care. This was Alex, and if there was unspecified principle in the universe that he was certain of, it was that she would do the same for him if she needed to. 

And beside, she should be here and she wasn’t, and that in and of itself was screaming it’s wrongness to him. 

Setting the note down next to the phone, Strand closed his eyes as if to ask her forgiveness before his fingers slid from memory over the numbers that created her passcode. Ignoring the hiss of Nic from where he still stood outside of the room, Richard just looked to the screen that had last been opened by the phone’s owner. 

As someone who was a very busy producer on a show that was steadfastly becoming more popular, Alex tended to collect many more voicemails than she knew what to do with. A huge part of car rides was her listening to each message as fast as she could and deleting the ones that didn’t require her attention. When he’d asked how she’d managed it during one car ride, she said that if she saw all of them every time she’d opened her phone she’d lose her mind. Even then, her box still had those that she wanted to reply to or forward, and the number practically made his skin crawl. 

There was only one voicemail message in her phone, and judging from the time stamp and how long she had been gone, Strand could only guess that the call had come as soon as she was alone. Purposefully alone. The skeptic in him wanted to chalk this up to simply being a coincidence, but somehow it didn’t feel like one. No, he didn’t like how he was considering his feelings in this either. The last time that he’d put such stock in feelings had been with Coralee… And he needed to stop that thought before it moved any further. 

With his skin itching, and swallowing, Richard pushed the play button on the message putting it on speaker phone. At the first sound, he could feel the ice spread from his chest to his fingertips and back. Simon. Of course it would be _fucking Simon_ the one person who could be trusted to make Alex more frightened of this whole business. This time when Nic moved to come into the office, Strand didn’t make any movement to stop him, but one hand remained upon Alex’s phone as his other hand reached up to grip the bridge of his nose, deep in thought as he listened to the man praying on her deepest fears. 

But the mention of the Adversary forced his eyes open and he breathed firmly through his nose for a moment, ignoring the way that the sound brought Nic’s finger to his lips. As if he would ever need to be quieted in order to focus on something that might help him help Alex. For whatever reason, he was certain that what was ever going on with Alex, she was going to be in dire need of his assistance very shortly. 

When the recording finished, Strand remained silent, attempting to commit it to memory, and he stopped Nic before he could put his fingers on the red phone case. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Nic.”

“Why? What are you thinking? I mean, she’s just scared and just took a minute and she’ll be--.” 

“No, it’s not that simple!” Strand’s voice was sharp and forceful, and he cut Nic off with a slash of his hand to go along with his words. “Of course _you_ would think it was that simple! Just _look around you_!” Nic had never been on the receiving end of Strand’s angry voice like this, so he raised his hands in front of them with a shrug before he looked around Alex’s office as he had been ordered to do. 

“I don’t-” 

He was cut off once more before Strand finally let go of the phone that he had been using as a lifeline and stepped back away from the desk. “Her purse is here but her jacket is gone. As someone who has been her friend for years when have you ever known Alex to go somewhere without her purse? Even if she was stepping out for coffee she would have taken it. And she never would have just brushed everything off her desk like this. Someone wanted us to not miss her phone and it wasn’t Alex. Alex would have come back in and played us the message, especially if she wanted to end the podcast like that. She wouldn’t have just disappeared on her own!” 

“Richard,” In the time that Nic had been investigating Tanis, he’d developed his own soft way of speaking, and he made his attempt to use that on Strand now, starting by using his first name even though he wouldn’t ordinarily do so. “Surely you’re not saying that you think someone has… taken Alex.” 

“No, Nic, I am _exactly saying_ that someone has taken Alex.” Dr. Richard Strand, as someone who had forced himself to be a skeptic his whole life, hated how certain he was of this with no evidence whatsoever. But he knew that he was right, it came with the same certainty that forced him to return one of eleven calls from a reporter who was half his age and who had thrown his life upside down.


	2. Truth is like a loaded gun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Alex got to where she is being held.

Alex Reagan was never going to be someone’s damsel in distress. This was a motto that she’d had since she’d first learned exactly what it was to be one, and just how bad it was. It was something that had been especially ingrained on her when she’d watched Lois and Clark with her dad on Sunday mornings and she’d seen Lois needing to be rescued by Superman more times than she could count. Long ago she’d promised herself that when she was a journalist she would stand on her own two feet and rescue herself. 

Of course that was before the first time she had a gun pressed to her side while she listened to an impossibly timed phonecall. 

Simon. Simon! For the first time since she could remember when, Alex wished that bilocation was actually real and that Simon might actually want to come and find her wherever she was currently being held. Of course, that goodbye had sound really final, and now that Alex was rethinking the phone call, she found herself turning the other pieces of it over in her mind. Given her current situation, that was probably not the best thing that she could be doing given how dark the room already was. 

And how _far_ her mind was telling her that she could see in it at this moment. 

“Apophenia.” Alex found herself whispering the word aloud for her own benefit, just to hear something other than the sound of her breathing and the the ever-present racing of her heart. If Strand had been here, he would have scoffed at just how much that word sounded like a prayer, but maybe, just maybe, he’d reconsider the thought about religion being a drunk and just see this as the psychological equivalent of taking two advil. 

There, that helped a bit, she forced herself to believe, and not for the first time, Alex took a deep breath and counted it, releasing it the square way that Dr. Burnett had taught her in one of her first sessions. The breathing was something that rarely worked for helping her stay asleep, but it did help her deal with stressful situations at times. No situation had ever been as stressful as the one that she was currently in, but anything that stopped herself from going into the screaming that her captors seemed to be attempting to inspire in her. Still, she wasn’t going to be a damsel here.

What Would Richard Do, Alex asked herself mentally, and she forced herself to amend the thought to What Would _Strand_ Do? Right now, she didn’t need the man who had become her friend, who… No. Right now she needed Dr. Strand, the skeptic who could single handedly break down almost anything into ones and zeros and facts. Almost anything other than demons and what was on the black tapes of course. 

No, Alex pulled her thoughts back from that course. “Focus, Alex.” The words came aloud because that was often how Alex did her best thinking. It was why she’d recorded her sleep notes. This was just something that was like that, she decided, and screw anyone who was listening and thinking that this was her somehow being weak. No, this was going to be how she stayed sane through this until someone came for her. Right now she was betting that Strand and Nic were putting the pieces together, and that they’d be looking. 

If only she knew who had actually _taken_ her. Given how many factions she’d heard about in the past seventy-two hours, Alex couldn’t place the blame one way or another. Hell, for all she knew, it could be Nic’s Tanis stuff and they just grabbed the wrong… No, her inner voice seemed to his, this is about The Black Tapes. Of course it was, wasn’t everything?!

Taking a deep breath, Alex spoke aloud, “go back to the beginning Alex. Just go back to the beginning.” 

Maybe MK was right about fandom, and how hiring a fan didn’t seem to be the best course of action. Nic had brushed her warnings off, but as Alex brushed her fingertips against the side of her neck, she wished that they hadn’t found it so laughable that Barbara could somehow be someone who would ever do any of them harm. Now, she was going to need to buy MK a beer by way of apology. Or at least add to her bitcoin wallet so she could purchase one of her own.

In the beginning, Barbara had been perfect really. She was always there with the best coffee, and she knew the types of tea that Strand liked and how to make it so that there would be the minimum amount of complaining upon his end about the quality of it. And she was always so helpful, never complaining when she got the short end of the stick and needed to stay late when she and Richard were sequestered within her office working either together or just side by side. Maybe that should have been the first tip off about all of this. 

As she remembered, Alex paced, one hand brushing along the wall of the room that she was going to keep calling a cell with everything within her. It didn’t matter whether it was actually one or not, it earned the title until they turned the damned lights on and explained to her what the hell it was that they wanted. But walking gave her a sense of the space, and touching it ensured that she never lost it, or herself in the blackness. She definitely wasn’t going to be an unprepared damsel.

Now that she was thinking about it, Alex could see just how much Barbara had forced things along by “finding” all of those things out about Strand’s history and finding the body of Bobby Mames. The discussion had led to the two of them ending up going to meet with Thomas Warren and being rescued by Coralee Strand, or whatever name it was that she had taken for herself in the twenty years that she had been that woman. 

“Focus, Alex,” the words came again, and her hand touched the back of her cell, and she decided this time that it was probably a walk in closet when it wasn’t being used to imprison podcast hosts. There, in front of her toes was the camping mattress that she had woken up on, and the three bottles of water that she really wished that she could drink. Sure, the plastic on the cap _felt_ sealed, but she couldn’t help but remember the time that Nic drank the tea and ended up drugged. 

She was definitely not going to be making that mistake. Whatever was going to happen to her was going to happen to her being awake and on her feet. 

Her thoughts moved back to before she was taken, pooling the events over in her mind as if this time she’d see them through a different lens. Closing her eyes and then opening them even though it made no difference in the dark ( _fuck you, Simon_ ) Alex remembered stepping out of the door of the recording studio and shutting it behind her. She could feel Nic’s concern and Strand’s exasperation behind her, almost through the door and Alex needed to have a second where she was just with her own thoughts. 

Taking a few steps away from the door, Alex’s thought process had been broken by the alert sound that meant she had a new voicemail. Normally, that wouldn’t have been different than any other day, but her phone hadn’t rung in hours, and now there was a single message. Even though she frowned as she played it, Alex did play it through once in disbelief, and a second in shock. It was the shock that she had been intent on sharing with Richard and Nic when Barbara had stepped into her path. 

“I need to talk to you, Alex,” and the woman in question could still hear Barbara’s words as if they were in the same room. The intern’s voice had changed, more confident and assured and almost more mature than they’d ever been in Alex’s presence. 

But her intern was still her intern and Alex wasn’t going to start being suspicious of everyone around her. At least not again. She wasn’t Strand after all. “Now’s not really a great time, Barbara, I’m kind of in the middle of something and it’s important.” 

“I’m afraid it needs to be now, Alex. We’re on a tight schedule.” The woman stepped closer to her, well within Alex’s own personal space, but the smile on Barbara’s face remained the same, as if there wasn’t a care in the world. Before Alex could respond, Barbara spoke once more. “We’re going to go to your office, and if you respond in any way or cause any amount of attention to us, then everyone within this office is going to die, including you and me. I don’t want to die today, Alex, so you’re just going to smile, and you’re going to nod at me and we’re going to go into your office so that we can have our little chat and do what we need to do. You have until the count of three to smile to their satisfaction, Alex, so I really hope you’re up to it.” 

For the first of the three count, Alex’s only response was a movement in her cheek and a slight widening of her eyes. After the first round of death threats that they’d gotten, even before they’re been a Black Tapes Podcast, Paul and Terry had installed security cameras to make all of their staff feel safe. If there actually was a ‘them’ and they had access to someone who was like an MK, then they could be being watched right now. Even if she didn’t think that someone might have been watching, PNWS was a family, and she wasn’t going to do anything that might jeopardize any of them. Besides, it was just her office. What harm could come to her in her office with everyone just outside her door?

So before the three count, Alex had smiled, and she spoke softly, attempting to sound casual. “Sure, no problem, let’s go to my office.” 

The three count passed into ten at the very least, so Alex was guessing that she had passed, and Barbara nodded. “I’ll be right behind you, and remember, no attention.”

The offices of PNWS weren’t particularly large, but in that moment it had seemed to Alex as if she was walking across the entire state of Washington and beyond. The smile remained fixed on her face, and she kept her hand on her phone, keeping it unlocked so that if she needed to, she could just press the record button and people would know what was going-- 

And then she was in her office and she felt Barbara take the phone out of her hand. “No, I don’t think so, Alex. Getting you into here was only the first stop, and as I said, we’re on a very tight timeline--” 

This time Alex had been the one to interrupt Barbara. “Who’s ‘we’ and what’s going on, Barbara? This isn’t making any sense.” Except it was making frightening kinds of sense, especially to someone who had just been told that she should get into the van with someone who was considered to be legally dead if she didn’t want to die herself. Especially to someone who had just heard about people being on the run from their handlers. 

Who knew her life would turn into a spooky version of Alias? 

Barbara kept her body between Alex and the door, and now that it was shut, she pulled out some sort of handgun. Never before had Alex seen one like it in person, and she was surprised at just how big it was, and how many bullets her mind reminded her that something like a semiautomatic could hold. Enough bullets to kill her. And Strand. And Nic. And everyone else who she cared about out in the offices. Hell, it was lunch time, and if Barbara was a good shot, she might not even need to reload. 

“You’re not going to be asking anymore questions, Alex. We don’t have much time and it’s in your best interests to do what I’m telling you to do. And it’s really in _their_ best interests too. We know that you go running into things without thinking about yourself, but you’re definitely going to think about them.” At this mention of them, Barbara waved the gun in a vague way behind her, and Alex got her meaning implicitly. 

“Barbara, you don’t--” 

“I don’t have to do this?” The intern’s voice dropped into a mocking simper. “I do, and you do to. Now, we’ve got three minutes in here, and you’re wasting time. I don’t want to shoot our way out of here, Alex. And you don’t want me to either. Now, first things first. Sweep everything off your desk. All of your piles and papers onto the floor.” Alex scowled at the woman, and she just met her eyes before catching the pile of papers with the back of her arm, sending them tumbling around her. 

“Good, you can follow directions. Next grab a post it note and a pen, and you’re going to write a little message for me.” While Alex wrote, Barbara scrolled through and deleted an incoming message, just leaving the one from Simon. Really not liking where this was going, Alex looked up and noted that Barbara was wearing gloves. Of course, so that only her fingerprints would be in here. The thought was a knot that tightened in her stomach when Barbara handed her the phone back and told her how to place it with the note. “And now we move onto the next part. Let’s go.” 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to leave this building with you.” 

“No, you’re crazy if you think that we’re not. But if you keep pushing this, Alex, then Nic is going to be the first person we kill. I know that you’re not going to let anything happen to him! You’ve seen what’s happened to the others, Alex, to Maddie Frank and to the Hochmans. Do you really want to see what they’d do to Nic for punishing you for making us miss this deadline?” 

During her sleepless nights after finding Maddie Frank’s body, Alex’s mind had given her all sorts of visions of what might happen to the people whom she cared about. They’d needed Strand, Alex knew then, but Nic… Well, Nic had his own supernatural things on his plate in the form of Tanis. Taking a deep breath, Alex had just managed to sigh. “What do you want me to do.” 

“We’re leaving, I told you. And you’re not going to draw any attention to us, or you’re going to be sorry, Alex.” 

But Alex wasn’t stupid, and she was thinking of every way that she could not to make this as simple and easy as Barbara wanted. She wasn’t going to let Strand and Nic think that she just walked out of her life and away from them. “Fine, whatever you say, let me just grab my purse and my coat, people are going to think it’s weird that I’m leaving without them.”

The sharp shards of laughter stopped Alex in her tracks as she reached for the oversize purse that housed her life. “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Alex?” Any trace of the intern was gone in the coldness of that dispassionate voice. “I know all about the trackers that Paul and Terry had put on all of the equipment after you two idiots kept going missing. They wanted to always be able to find you, remember? I’m the one who wrote the _memo_. You can take your coat though, you’re going to need it where you’re going. Now the two of us are going to walk out to my car, all smiles. It’s parked right out front. You get cute in any way, the person who try to get to help you dies. I am not fucking around, Alex. Tell me you believe me.” 

Alex said it; she believed her. It was impossible not to believe her with that look in her eyes. So, she had walked out with the woman wearing that same tight smile, and had gotten into the passenger seat of the car. While she’d been turned to reach for her seatbelt, Barbara had injected something into her neck, and the next thing that she had remembered was coming to in this small and dark room. 

There was no good way to judge how long Alex had been asleep, especially with the way that the lingering effects still brushed at her subconscious. Why she couldn’t have been given something good like ecstasy was a question she entertained only briefly before the riff of laughter reminded her that it had been quite a while since she had emptied her bladder. Damn it, she thought, not for the first time, why couldn’t they have at least given me a bucket so I could pee! 

With that bringing herself up to date as to where she was (no idea) how long she was there (too freaking long) or who it was that had her (not a freaking clue) Alex began walking the thirteen steps from wall to door once again, forcing herself to count each one over again. This time, she didn’t have as long as she thought to wait. Somewhere around step three hundred and two, there was the sound of a lock drawing back and she whirled around to face the door. Blinded by the light that it let in, Alex’s hands balled into fists, ready to fight whoever was coming in if she had too. 

She hoped it was Barbara. Barbara had at least a broken nose coming for all of this. 

Really though, Alex should have expect who she heard before she saw. “Hello Alexandra. I hope we didn’t keep you waiting.” Of course it was sexy James Bond himself in the form of Thomas Warren. 

He had a broken nose coming _too_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to lullaby-of-fandomland and meer-katnip on tumblr for very kindly helping me with the enthusiastic intern's name. I'm actually kinda glad she wasn't given one, to be honest as I do enjoy them on twitter! I realize it was a million years ago now but I appreciate the help anyway! Still working on being the change I want to see in the world, obviously. Fic is as always unbeated, and I'm sorry if anyone is out of character, etc.


	3. Chapter 3: But I've lost my way around

“You are being _deliberately obtuse._ ” Not for the first time, Nic admired Strand’s ability to have the word ‘fucking’ only somehow be implied in his tone of voice but not having it directly stated. He’d wondered over the times when he’d heard Strand lobbying it at Alex if it was a skill that he had learned while he was teaching. Somehow he’d always expected that even when Strand was at the place of using that tone that he was still in complete control of himself. Seeing it in this situation, with Richard like this, Nic knew that he was entirely wrong. 

“You are telling me, quite seriously, that it looks like the woman in that video is leaving with that girl without any form of duress? Are you even looking at the same tape that we have been?!” In the last seven hours and some minutes since Alex had gone missing, (Nic was sure that Strand would be able to give him an exact time if he asked, but the last thing he wanted to do was distract the doctor from dealing with the police.) Strand’s tone had gotten substantially colder and more abrupt, and the anger had bubbled more to the surface. 

Even when Richard Strand had been deep into what Alex had called his “unabomber” look, Nic hadn’t seen him look this dressed down. Oh, he’d been disheveled, and had needed a shower, shave and a meal, but there was a wildness in his eyes that Nic expected wasn’t ingratiating the police to their cause. Somewhere along the time since they’d first noticed Alex missing and since they’d first viewed the tape, Richard’s suit jacket had come off. It was when the police took over three hours to respond that his tie had become askewed, and in the hour that he’d been dealing with the police, Strand’s shirt sleeves had somehow been rolled up to his elbows. 

Once Nic had joked to Alex (or at Alex might have been the better term, since she didn’t always appreciate the jokes at Strand’s expense) that Strand probably slept in his clothes like armor. Even the flannels had been armor of themselves, a protection not of the Dr. Strand of the Strand Insitute, but of Richard Strand, half-widower who was desperate to find his wife. Seeing his arms like this seemed somehow far more intimate than it might have been to see him naked. Not for the first time this afternoon, Nic attempted to distract himself with thoughts of something other than Alex. Right now he was wondering the last time Strand had been like this. 

It was too easy to think of: it was probably during those five days when he’d gone looking for his wife in the woods. 

With a very pointed finger, Strand pointed to the paused tape once again. “There is clearly a cylindrical metallic device in the intern’s hand. How can you say that this is not a situation of duress?!” 

“Look, Doctor Strand,” the older police officer smiled at him in a way that was half a grimace. “I don’t know what you think you’re seeing, but I don’t see it. It just looks like two women walking out to me.”

“Two women both allowed her to leave her purse behind with all of her valuables in it?! Have you ever-” Nic put his hand on Strand’s arm to shut him up. 

But his sarcasm had pricked the younger cop’s ego and he sneered at Strand. “Look, we get it your wife went missing and now your girlfriend is missing too. Quite a pattern you’ve got going here, _Dick_. How do we know that you don’t have her stashed somewhere?” For a moment, Nic thought that Strand might actually punch the cop, and his grip on the other man’s arm tightened and he shook his head. Despite wanting to invoke the name of Alex, Nic didn’t. Suspecting that the police officer might say something else stupid with new information about their relationship (whatever it was now) he just kept touching Strand’s arm. 

Of course, Strand could be dramatic when he was angry, and he opened his mouth to say something to the cop that would likely result in his arrest and it was lucky that the older police officer put his hand on his partner’s shoulder as the four men stared at one another. “Look, Doc, I get it, you’re worried. But all we can do it put out an APB on the car in case something comes up. Until then we wait until she’s been missing forty-eight hours and start from there.” 

“Forty-eight hours?” Nic and Strand spoke as one, with equal parts anger and disbelief, but it was Strand who added to it, “you have no idea what these people could do to her in forty-eight hours.” 

“And how do you know? Who do you think has her anyway?” The younger cop was jockeying again and Strand sneered. 

“If you’d had any idea how to do your job, I’d inform you. Unfortunately, I don’t believe you're capable in the least.”

A new voice, one that had more authority than Strand’s cut in, as Paul and Terry had finally arrived from Vancouver. It had taken them awhile to get here, despite how early they had been called because of traffic and some hope that this was Dr. Strand just being dramatic. But now that they were here, they stepped forward to give the police details that Nic and Strand didn’t have, such as Barbara’s address and her social security number and other things that might make this easier. 

With the police useless and distracted, Strand grabbed Nic’s arm and pulled him into a side alcove, speaking so low that the younger man needed to strain in order to hear him. “You need to get in contact with your friend the hacker. This isn’t like…” There’s a hesitation there, and Nic can fill in the blanks with what comes next, “there’s traffic cameras, security cameras all sorts of things. You can’t just vanish in a city like this.” Coralee wasn’t walking into the woods in Big Sur with just a gas station. This was downtown Seattle. 

“I’ll ask,” Nic said quickly, his eyes locked with Strand’s. “Knowing her, she’s probably already doing it.” 

“Whatever it takes, how much it takes, I’ll pay for it all if need be. Hopefully the police will be helpful as well, if you need me, you have my cellphone number.” Already Richard was attempting to push by Nic, business on his mind.

“Richard, where are you going? You can’t just leave! The cops--” 

“The cops are _idiots_. You’ve got to get help from your friend, and I’m going to get help from mine.” Shaking off Nic’s restraining arm with a strength that surprised the younger man, Strand picked up his jacket from the desk where he discarded it, making sure he had the phone and his car keys by the weight distributed in the pockets, and then he just made for the door. “If anything changes, call me.” 

“We’re going to find her, Richard. We’re going to find her.” Nic’s voice didn’t have any doubt in it, and neither did the nod that Strand threw over his shoulder to the other man before he walked out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a while to get this out! It was written before I even posted, but I couldn't decide if I wanted to go to stay with Alex or go with Strand. So, clearly I decided Strand! 
> 
> Next chapter: my take on THE NIGHT! 
> 
> Thanks for everyone being so open and welcoming in the fandom. It makes up for a lot with other stuff going on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! So, this is my first fic in probably a decade and I wrote a good chunk of it so far. It's unbetaed, etc so hopefully there's nothing too terrible in it. 
> 
> Also yeah, I know Alex mentions that there were two voicemails in the ep, but hey dramatic license.


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